Quarter Past One
by scarletrains
Summary: "Yura, what's going on?" Yuri wondered how he was still so willingly nice to him, even after the way he reacted.


**Okay so first of all I'm sorry on how sad this is because Yurio and Otabek don't deserve it but oh well. Second, I'm using the British spelling so if you don't recognise the way a specific word is spelt then that's basically the reason why. Third, I honestly think that they are really OOC in this, so forgive me. And fourth, I hope you enjoy this one-shot I made, I haven't posted a story in so long that I'm actually really nervous about this. Feel free to leave constructive criticism (and bread sticks, please?) because I bet to all of you that there are a LOT of mistakes in this. Also I feel like this one-shot is way too short.**

 **Anyways, on to the story!**

* * *

Yuri clutched at his dishevelled hair as his eyes scanned the memories scattered across his bedroom floor, tears were fighting to be let out for the hundredth time. He wanted to scream, to burn the picture-perfect memories, he wanted to punch a wall but his body wouldn't obey his raging thoughts. His shaky hand picked up another picture, the dark horse kissing his cheek as he ate a cotton candy and he was wearing a cat headband. Yuri remembered every detail of that day, the way his stomach was all messed up even if they had been with each other for ages, the way he knew that Otabek was everything to Yuri.

It was the same way he remembered the day he figured out that he wasn't really everything to the hero.

No, not really. That's only what he thought.

"Stop. Just _fucking_ stop!" He screamed to the voices as the tears fell from his viridian eyes; they didn't shine with the same emotions. He couldn't understand why he missed him, why he missed him even after what he did to him. Yuri tried to convince himself.

' _it's unforgivable, it's unforgivable, it's unforgivable…'_

It was a quarter past one the last time he checked, not that it mattered anyways. Since a month ago, he'd been checking his phone for any sign of his name after the week he ignored all his texts and calls. Yuri had every urge to throw his phone out the window to let it sink in the snow on the empty streets that week, he couldn't process the pain that grew from his chest. It was like a tumour awaiting to kill him at any moment. Yuri couldn't understand why he still cared, why he still bothered to look through their messages just to end up turning into a crying mess. He was a mess, and he knew it.

" _Yuri I'm sorry, it didn't mean anything. You have to trust me on that, what I'm saying is the truth."_

The lines played in his head, like a broken record waiting to be fixed. The way his voice still didn't leave his head was what aggravated him the most, the way that he thought about him when he saw a teddy bear in a shop window and even when there's a dash of dark hair that passes him on the street. Everything reminded him of his knight in shining armour. His mind was in a constant battle to find him again, his warmth, his love, his everything. He needed him. After giving everything to him, he found no pleasure in anything but ice-skating, and even sometimes it hurt too much to skate. He diverted himself to focus on the only thing that mattered to him.

" _How should I trust you now, Otabek? After what you've done?" He shouted, aggravated at the man in front of him. He saw his face distort at the use of his proper name._

Yuri never used Otabek's full name, as much as he loved his name he was too well accustomed with his nickname. He wasn't sure when his hand grasped at the now half empty vodka bottle but he took a swing and cringed at the burning sensation at the back of his throat as well as the taste of it.

The day it happened, Yuri booked a flight back to St. Petersburg immediately, surprising Yuuri and Victor when he arrived at their doorstep past midnight. Yuri was reluctant to tell them what had happened, and why he travelled back to Russia on such a short notice but the bombarding questions made him snap and he was vulnerable, crying on the floor with his suitcase and backpack collapsing in the same manner.

That night Victor and Yuuri had left for a date night with a concerned Yuuri.

"Katsudon, you need to stop worrying," Yuri groaning in annoyance,  
"Get your soppy assess out of here."

Yuuri asked one more time if he was going to be alright.

"Yes." _No._

He didn't know he was going to end up in another mess, he didn't know he was going to find a box of polaroid pictures and print outs in the storage room, he didn't know he was going to down a bottle of Victor's vodka, he didn't know he was going to lose all his self-control. And with bloodshot eyes and shaky hands he reached for his phone that was hidden safely in the bottom drawer.

" _Yura…" Otabek's voice was fragile, desperate for forgiveness._

" _Don't 'Yura' me! It's not going to work asshole." He was still shouting and his voice was cracking. He knew he was losing his composure._

" _At least just contact me when you've thought about all of this… I need to know you're okay." Otabek wouldn't let his words show what his eyes were starting to pour out. Yuri hung his head and his gaze went dizzy, his hair covered what he didn't want Otabek to see. Moments after, he looked at him through blurry eyes. All he was then was a blur of empty colours._

" _No."_

Yuri pressed the numbers, he lost all control and his heart thumped in his chest as the ringing sound played. It didn't even take a minute.

"Yuri..?" Otabek's voice rung into his ears like the sound of his favourite song, sending shivers throughout his body and his voice was stuck in his throat. All that came out was another wave of tears.

" _Yura_ , what's going on?"

Yuri wondered how he was still so willingly nice to him, even after the way he reacted. Yuri was clutching the spout of the bottle in such strength that it could have shattered in pieces, leaving him with a bloody hand. And it did. He didn't feel it; the pain in his chest was stronger.

Otabek kept calling for his name, asking frantically about the sound of the glass. He knew. He knew.

"Fuck you." Yuri finally spoke, in a hushed manner and he kept repeating it until he gradually got louder and Otabek sat there in patience on the other side of the line. Yuri wondered why he didn't hang up, Yuri thought he should have. Besides, he's just listening to an eighteen-year-old having a mental breakdown.

"You're such an asshole," Yuri inhaled yet tears were still spilling out,  
"I need you. I need you, I need you, I need you!" Yuri cried into the phone.

"I can't take it anymore," Yuri felt a wave of nausea but he kept himself stationary on the floor, "I need you here with me, Beka." Yuri quietly, desperately, confessed.

Otabek listened as the Russian cried and cried and cried. He wasn't expecting it, he thought he had lost him and now he was listening to a Yuri that _he_ drowned in sorrow. He was listening to the once so melded and unbroken Yuri crying and hated it with all his heart. He hated it when Yuri was in pain but he was the one who caused it. He knew he was lonely, he didn't know if Yuri would regret calling him in the morning. Otabek wanted to believe that he wasn't under the slight influence of alcohol, but he wasn't so sure.

"You know how long I've wanted to hear your voice again?" Otabek rejected all his drilling thoughts and he swore he heard a smile spreading on Yuri's face.


End file.
